


Comets travel through time and space

by Flamyoi



Category: Cloud Atlas - All Media Types
Genre: Agent Luisa, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bookstores, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Coffee Shops, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Fluff, Geophysicist Rufus, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pianist Robert, Pining, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, Tattoo artist Sonmi & Haejoo, Tattoos, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamyoi/pseuds/Flamyoi
Summary: Written for the prompt: Rufus and Robert as soulmates in an alternate universe."It all began with a gunshot. Or was it the end?"
Relationships: Robert Frobisher/Rufus Sixsmith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Comets travel through time and space

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to this fandom I will never stop loving, and my take on Robert and Rufus' story, as I can't get enough of them.
> 
> Mature rating for implied love-making, violence and canonical character death(s).

_ It all began with a gunshot. Or what is the end? _

Rufus Sixsmith woke up with a start. His bedroom was pitch dark, and he was clutching the covers in a vain attempt at reassurance. His heart was beating as if he had been running from something. He could almost taste the blood on his tongue. He breathed in deeply. It was just a bad dream. Right? There was no gun in the room, nor outside, surely. It was the 21st century, this country wasn't in a state of war (yet), and the neighbourhood was pretty safe; he had nothing to be afraid of, he reminded himself while taking another deep breath.

He fished around the sheets to find his smartphone and checked the time. The digital numbers displayed three in the morning, far too early to be awake. With a sigh, he pushed the device away and stared at the blurry ceiling.

It had been a hell of a day. It was surprising in itself that he had managed to fall asleep in the first place. He was probably far more tired than he thought.

After an exceptionally long mission, he had gotten a few days off from work. For the occasion, he had come to London, where his mother and brother had welcomed him as if he had been away for years - in all honesty, it had only been eight months.

Still working as head librarian despite nearing sixty-five years old, Matilda Sixsmith, was also a regular member of the audience at the Royal Albert Hall, in central London. Months before her oldest son’s stay, she had bought two tickets for a classical music concert. She was supposed to go with a friend; however, the said friend had had to stand down at the last minute, and Matilda had found herself with an additional ticket.

Classical wasn’t ordinarily to Rufus’ taste, but he’d accepted to accompany his mother all the same. She had been kind enough not to mention he didn’t seem as excited as she was.

[...]

_ The venue was impressive, and Rufus found himself looking around him in awe. There was something in the atmosphere that made him relax. They weren’t in the front row, but close enough to see the stage distinctly. For now, only a glossy black piano stood there. _

_ Not much later, the lights dimmed, and a pair walked on stage. The man sat at the piano while the woman paced herself beside it. Her skin was light brown, her hair long and tied in a bun with a silk ribbon. She looked stunning in her long-sleeved black dress adorned with golden embroideries. But then, Rufus saw the pianist. He had wavy dark brown hair covering his forehead, melancholic brown eyes, a bit of stubble, and a dark formal suit with the same silk ribbon on his collar, which suited his pale complexion and slim figure. If the singer was stunning, the musician was divine, Rufus couldn't help but reflect. _

_ The music was probably as exquisite as it was supposed to be in such a magnificent place. Still, Rufus found himself unable to take his eyes off the piano player for the duration of the concert. He watched his slender hands fly around the keys, brushing or crushing them with heartfelt intensity. He watched how his shoulders waltzed in rhythm. He watched his eyes shine with passion. He watched his entire being pray the Lord of Music. _

_ The concert ended, and everyone in the room started clapping in unison. The sound was muffled for Rufus, and his heart was beating too fast. Unaware of his inner discomfort, his mother was clapping in awe. Hasn’t she saw the same thing? She didn’t seem wrecked like he was. _

_ They managed to exit the venue by the crowded corridors. Hopefully, Matilda was the one to drive them home. Rufus wasn’t positive he could do it in his current state. She tried to make him talk about the show, but he was already deep in his mind, trying to preserve the precious images from before, to store them in a safe place. _

_ She asked him if he wanted a light snack before sleep, but he kissed her good night and went directly in his room. His brother was probably asleep already. _

_ In the half-light, he undressed and let his fancy suit fall on the carpeted floor absentmindedly and lay down under the covers. _

[...]

Next thing he knew, he was calming down from his nightmare. 

Even given the time, he didn’t want to fall asleep again just yet. He got up to put on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and left his bedroom as silently as he could. He heard a faint snore which could belong to any family member, descended the stairs and switched the lights on in the small kitchen. The tiled floor was cold under his bare feet, but he didn’t care that much. It was grounding in a particular way. He hesitated between a glass of water and a cup of instant coffee and decided for the latter as he wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon.

The bitter fragrance managed in waking him up completely, even though he could virtually feel the dark bags under his eyes. He turned the lights off and went back upstairs with his mug.

He unlocked his smartphone and didn’t hesitate long before opening his web browser. He typed with nearly shaky fingers the location and time of the night’s concert and clicked on the Royal Albert Hall’s website link. 

The name "Robert Frobisher" appeared prominently, in an elegant black font on a cream background. 

Rufus couldn’t help the rush of his heart at the discovery. A small part of his brain had thought the man had been a dream because how could he be real?

"Robert Frobisher," Rufus said out loud and closed his eyes shortly, trying to envision the curve of his lips and the colour of his eyes.

Multiple website links and various (glorious) pictures appeared on the screen when he copied the name in the browser. He selected a short video and hit play.

A slow and melancholic melody invaded his room and brain and veins. 

He stared blankly at the screen, this time unable to do anything else but to listen to the beauty coming from Robert Frobisher through his phone.

Rufus hadn't ever held a particular taste for music of any kind, even as a teenager. He had heard what his mother used to listen in the car or at home, he had also accompanied his younger brother Stephen to a rock festival twice, but he had never bought himself a CD or gone to a concert on his own volition.

Therefore, he had every right to be unsettled by this novel and unforeseen curiosity. He acknowledged it wasn’t only the music. He had been struck by the player first, and he was now extremely interested in everything he could learn about him. 

For one fleeting second, he felt like a kind of vampire ready to feed on his prey. Then he estimated that it didn’t matter as no one was supposed to know.

In the course of the night, Rufus created himself an account on YouTube to save in a private playlist every video featuring Robert Frobisher he could find.

The sun began to rise eventually, and he didn’t even notice someone knocking on his door before it opened.

He slowly raised his head from the screen. He could feel his eyes and neck hurting now that he wasn't enraptured by his researches anymore.

His mother was standing on the threshold, looking puzzled.

“You didn’t sleep, dear?”

“I couldn’t,” he said honestly.

“I hope it was the concert’s fault and not your work’s!” Matilda teased.

“I didn’t know someone could play like that,” Rufus confessed.

She came to sit on the edge of the bed, in her dark red dressing gown, with her greying hair loose on her shoulders. She patted his knee. 

“I knew someday you’d finally open yourself to music."

He didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t breathe for an instant.

“What if it’s not only about music, Mom? What if there’s more to it?”

[…]

When Rufus left the family home at the end of his holidays, his mother hugged him tightly, a gesture she had only made a handful of times in his life, not from a lack of love but because it simply wasn’t something they did in the family. To be held like this before leaving aided him to redefine his priorities. He was thirty-six years old, and he never had in his life let himself feel that much. It was terrifying yet also exhilarating. He wouldn’t hide his feelings anymore; he would cherish them.

He flew from London to New York City and from there to Houston, Texas, where he had principally been working for years. 

When he pushed the door of his modest cabin, a wave of despair assaulted him. The place was devoid of human presence and warmth, which was usual. What wasn't, though, was how isolated that made him feel. It had never occurred to him before, yet he had existed like this for the best part of a decade.

Without taking the time to unpack his bags, he sat on the sagging couch and fished for his phone in his coat’s pocket.

Robert Frobisher’s music soon came through the speaker and soothed him enough to doze for a while with a faint smile.

[…]

Two weeks after his return in Houston, he had finally gotten accustomed to his work schedule again. He was still listening to Robert’s music - yes, it was  _ Robert  _ now. He had a nightmare only once, which left him on the verge of tears and struggling to breathe. Other than that, he had everything under control. It was, without a doubt, him worrying over an upcoming deal, which held the potential to promote him as a project manager if everything went smoothly. 

That is when he finally decided to send his first message to Robert on YouTube. People did that all the time, why not he?

“I’ve been following your channel for a while, since your last concert in London. What you did that night was pure magic. I literally couldn’t sleep afterwards. Your other videos are equally amazing. Thank you for sharing your gift with us. - RS”

His fingers were shaking when he hit send, and his message appeared under a video. In the next few minutes, more comments from across the world caused his to disappear slowly. He shrugged to conceal his disillusion. Some part of him had hoped that Robert would see it right away, understand who Rufus was and answer him.

Foolish, foolish, foolish.

[...]

Twenty-three days - that is the time it took for Rufus to receive an answer. He knew, not because he had been counting the days of course (he had), but because it was displayed next to his original comment.

If he had to be honest, he had given up on getting a reply at the end of the first week. The few comments Robert had responded to appeared in first position below the video and thus had many Likes. Rufus refused to admit he was jealous as hell. If Robert hadn’t posted a single comment, there wouldn’t have been any hope of receiving one. But since Rufus knew it could happen… Even if there were so few of them compared to the ones remaining unanswered - like his.

There had been many restless nights before he gave up. He was still not sleeping well, though for other reasons.

And then it happened. A small red dot appeared on his notification board a night he was indolently wondering if he should make dinner instead of ordering unhealthy and expensive take-out – at least his Mom couldn't see the mess of empty boxes in the kitchen.

“I'm very pleased you attended and enjoyed London's concert. A video of that night will be uploaded on this channel soon, so stay tuned. Musically yours, Robert.”

Rufus' brain froze on the spot. He could only stare at the screen for what seemed no time at all but probably was at least several minutes.

Robert had answered his comment, and his only. Rufus’ sudden elation moved on to something bitter. He had replied to him, but he could have responded to anyone with these same words. There was nothing particular about it - and of course, Rufus knew for he had read every single comment left by the musician on his channel.

Still, a hint of pride warmed him again. He had got an answer: him and nobody else. And soon an extract of London’s concert would be released, which meant hours and hours of listening on the horizon.

That is to say, when his superior told him about his next mission, Rufus wanted to reject it for the first time in his career. He had always been compliant to the direct orders because he loved his job and more than that, he had concern for a work well done. However, leaving the Houston’s base to spend a month in central Russia to study the soils of a newly acquired area meant he would neither have time to spare nor the Internet on his phone.

In cases like this, he wondered why he had chosen to become a geophysicist. Sure, the work had him intellectually thriving, but then, the accommodations were, more often than not, mediocre.

He hadn’t much choice anyway, and he packed his bag in a matter of two days. On his phone, a handful of Robert’s songs, legally downloaded when the concept had come to his mind like an epiphany.

It was mid-October and freezing in Russia, more than he had thought possible, even after growing up in a rainy and relatively northern country like England.

He did his work without much enthusiasm and counted the days until he would have access to the online world again. He kept thinking about the promised video as a reward for enduring these dire conditions.

Hopefully, the Russian mission was for once successful. The team did manage to find a well, and after two weeks of additional searches, they were ninety per cent sure that it was an oil well. Rufus evidently wouldn’t get a raise, but his superior would, and the people above them would earn an even more colossal sum of money which could, in the end, profit Rufus indirectly.

He and his peers had learnt about that early in physicist school. They would always be the ones to find the resources, but it would neither belong to them nor profit them directly. They were only some sorts of police dogs for the big petroleum companies around the world.

[…]

When Rufus came back in Houston, Christmas was already one week away. In a fit of generosity, Rufus’ superior gave him the next week off. Before that, Rufus would have wondered if it could be of use to have a whole week for himself. At that moment, though, he dutifully thanked his superior and went home. It was too late to come back to London for the holidays, and he didn't want to disrupt his family's plans.

Instead of booking a plane to Europe, he checked Robert’s music channel (again), as he was still not acknowledging out loud to know it by heart. There was indeed the new video from the concert he had attended, and there was another one. Rufus clicked on that one first and let it play.

Robert was facing the camera, and Rufus quickly noticed that it wasn’t a music video, even if there was some music playing in the background. The aim was for Robert to make a statement to his followers.

He wore a crisp white shirt, and his hair was falsely messy. It stole Rufus’ breath away all the same. He still managed to listen to the message and follow the words. Robert was doing several charity concerts, one every two days until New Year’ Day. Seven cities in fourteen days: Boston, New York, Philadelphie, Washington DC, Atlanta, Jacksonville and New Orleans. Out of everywhere in the world, he was touring on the same continent Rufus lived in, especially when he had a week off! It couldn’t be random, could it? Surely, something akin to Fate was involved.

Now that Rufus knew he could see him again, he was determined to make it real at any cost. He had to go. The closest city from his place, New Orleans, was a five hours drive, or less than one and a half hour flight. Even if the tour started in Boston and he would be back to work when it came to New Orleans, he would find a way. He had never asked for a single day off, after all, not even when Matilda had fallen severely ill and had to be hospitalised several years back. Surely his boss could do that for him, even after a week of absence.

Rufus then hit play on the next video. The high-pitched voice of the talented opera singer came first and was joined soon by the dazzling piano player, whom Rufus definitely couldn’t forget.

He bought his plane ticket online that night, before going to sleep with a hopeful smile on his lips.

[…]

During the week, Rufus busied himself with tasks he usually chose to put aside, like shopping for actual groceries (not frozen goods), giving his family a call since it was Christmas, and catch up on international news and some books he had moved in with years ago. All in all, he spent a peaceful few days, except for when he thought about Robert, as Rufus couldn’t yet put intelligible words on his feelings. He felt like he had known him for a while, but if confronted, he wouldn’t be able to say anything more than what was available publicly. He was attracted by something beyond his good looks and talent, but he didn’t perceive what exactly. He was more or less expecting to find out during the next concert. Robert would be alone on the stage at that time, even if he weren’t the only artist taking part in the tour. 

Time passed slowly until the 31st, day of the concert in New Orleans. Rufus had asked to be on the night shift the previous day, to leave sooner and board his plane. He grabbed his carry-on bag at home and took a taxi to the airport. The flight went smoothly, but to be perfectly honest, his mind was so focused on Robert that he wouldn’t have noticed if something was amiss. 

He arrived in New Orleans around four in the afternoon, meaning he had five hours to spare before the concert. He went to check into his hostel first, then decided to go out. The weather wasn’t so bad, and since he had made the trip, he might as well enjoy his stay.

He didn’t know the city at all; it was too far from Houston for him to come here on his days off, which he usually spent on his couch anyway. He wandered in the historic French Quarter, passing by shops and restaurants before he remarked a secondhand bookshop called Beckham’s bookshop. 

It looked like the compound of an old library and a warehouse, but not in an inadequate way. The walls were of bricks and the floor covered with grey carpet. The shelves were neatly organized and the surfaces clean. It felt old but comfortable. 

A young bookseller acknowledged him with a soft smile which he responded awkwardly to. 

“May I help you, sir?”

“I’m not looking for anything in particular; I’m just passing.” He answered while shaking his head. But then he thought about something that genuinely interested him.

“Well, forget that! There may be something I could find here. Do you happen to sell any old records or even music-related books?”

The woman in front of him nodded.

“Yes, we do. You’ll find these on the first floor, on your right after the stairs.”

“Thank you,” he said, and then proceeded to follow her directions.

He didn’t find any of Robert’s CDs in the display units, but he wasn’t too disappointed since he hadn’t had high hopes in the first place. What he did find though was a stack of specialised books about music theory, composition and famous musicians. In the end, he chose "How to listen to Great music" by Robert Greenberg – and not only because of the author's name – and spent the remaining time before the concert in a nearby café, trying to analyse what he was reading. 

Once in the concert hall (which was more a club, really), he took a deep breath, sensing he wouldn't breathe that much afterwards. He was restless and impatient. He watched the empty scene intently, waiting for the audience to stop moving and chatting around him. 

The lights dimmed, and Rufus sighed of relief. That was it; he was about to see Robert again.

[…]

Rufus left the hall in a daze. The concert had been magnificent and heartbreaking, and Rufus couldn't believe it was over already. Thankfully, as it was a charity thing, someone had announced that Robert would stay an hour or so to meet his audience in the building's lobby. Of course, Rufus wasn't going to skip the chance, but that didn't mean he knew what he would say to the musician. His brain was chaos fuelled by dopamine, and if he attempted to speak it would most likely be a stuttering mess. Still, he had to give it a go.

He followed the numerous people along the stairs and in the narrow but pristine lobby. Then, they waited again for the maestro to arrive. Rufus noticed he wasn't too far from the beginning of the waiting line and worried his lower lip between his teeth. That wasn't like him to be so flustered and confused before someone else, but this wasn't a routine situation. He had never felt a bond like this before. 

He had kissed and taken to bed two women in his life, one in his early teens, the other a few years ago and had finally decided that the result wasn't worth the price. He had never felt for them the pure joy and fear he was experiencing toward Robert right now (the response people talked about  _ all the time _ ). That Robert was a man wasn't what bothered him the most. Gay people existed and if he was one of them, well, so be it. No, what was bothering was that he didn't know how to describe that the mere idea of Robert awed him. 

Lost in his thoughts, he noticed all of the sudden that there was only one fan left between Robert and himself, and then the path was free. His brain shut down, and he closed the distance between them. Robert was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair behind a folding table, and he welcomed Rufus with a friendly but guarded smile. From what Rufus had gathered, Robert wasn't the most outgoing of people, and meeting his audience like that was presumably a bit troublesome. 

"Good evening, mister Frobisher," Rufus said without stuttering - and Lord, was that a relief.

"Good evening to you, sir." 

Despite his polite and somewhat tired tone, Robert stared at him intently, never once breaking his gaze. That could have been unsettling if Rufus hadn't been so deep in his head, figuring out what to say.

"How did you like tonight?" Robert asked, to prompt him – because other people were waiting behind, Rufus reminded himself.

With an immediate pang of jealousy, Rufus answered the question.

"I'm still speechless. That was beautiful. Not quite like the last concert in London, but incredible in its own way."

Rufus smiled warmly, and Robert blushed a little at that.

"Thank you. Wait, you were in London? And tonight- Did you make the trip from there?" Rufus asked as if he couldn't believe that someone would travel the planet to hear him play. 

Rufus laughed a little in his deep baritone.

"I live in Texas, actually. I did fly here today for the concert, but in London, it was kind of an accident. I went to see my family and my mother dragged me along. I wasn't so fond of classical music before that."

"And now you are? Since you flew from Texas for tonight's."

"I am now very fond of your music," Rufus said, and it felt too good and liberating to say that out loud to the one concerned.

Robert flashed him another smile.

"Thank you so much for coming tonight, mister..."

"Sixsmith."

"Mister Sixsmith. I hope I'll see you again another time."

"Of course," Rufus said breathily. He knew it was his cue to leave, but he needed to ask one more thing.

"Can I... Can I write to you sometime?"

He flushed hard at his embarrassing question as Robert made a gesture to the woman standing behind him. She handed him a small business card, and Robert scribbled something on it before giving it to a bemused Rufus who took it with reverence.

"Until next time," Robert said, and only then tore his eyes away from Rufus.

Rufus left the building on cloud nine.

[…]

The e-mails started three weeks later, nearing the end of January. Of course, Rufus sent the first one (in his biased opinion, an inadequately written attempt at conveying his heartfelt emotions regarding Robert's talent). He expected anxiously for about three days before receiving an answer (a brief thank-you and a keen desire to learn more about Rufus' interest in classical music). Rufus was on top of the moon. From then on, they regularly wrote to each other, a few times a week, as they were both busy and their e-mails grew longer with time. 

At some point in March, they began to give each other phonecalls whenever Robert was in the US, and that was  _ so  _ much better than e-mails, no matter how grateful Robert was most of the time (since he could reread them). 

In early June, while he was in China for a promotional tour, Robert sent Rufus a most desired e-mail.

_ "My dear Rufus,_

_ I hope everything is pleasant for you at work and you remember to enjoy the light of day for a while instead of lingering in your office. The weather is excellent here, though I cannot particularly enjoy it for the program is intense and the work absorbing. The Chinese seemed to like my music enough to promote it, and that is both a relief and a prospect. Yesterday, I gave a concert in the most significant place I have ever played into. Everything here is out of common measure, and their enthusiasm was too, though nothing can compare to yours when it comes to my music. Speaking of that! _

_ If you would be so kind as to take a few days off to go perhaps visit your family in London at the end of next month, we could maybe meet there. I am not playing this time but giving two conferences with other musicians and professors, and it would be great if we also used this opportunity to spend some time together. I know how tight your schedule is these days so no pressure if you cannot make it, we will find another way to see each other before Christmas. Tell me as soon as you know. _

_ Take care, _

_ Robert"  _

They had indeed grown closer in the almost six months of their correspondence; it was the first time one of them talked about a meeting. Rufus knew he aspired to, but as Robert had said in the e-mail, their schedules and his constant touring often made things difficult. Knowing Robert would be in London was admittedly a good point and as Rufus hadn't taken any day off since New Years Day and the concert, his boss was likely to agree to the trip. Or so, Robert hoped.

[…]

That is how, on July the 30th, Rufus set foot in London. Robert was due to arrive the next day, and Rufus had arranged to spend some quality time with his mother and brother. He helped Stephen move the furniture in the living-room to refresh the paint on the walls while Matilda was at work to spring a surprise on her and then went for a bit of shopping for himself. 

Rufus chuckled when he found a book on geophysics for dummies. He decided to purchase it as a gift since Robert had  _ loved the idea  _ of Rufus buying a book on the history of classical music so they could talk, and had once or twice complained that he didn't comprehend anything about Rufus' work. 

Rufus and Stephen then picked up their mother at the library and together they went to get dinner in an Italian corner they enjoyed. (Matilda was overjoyed to discover her bright blue living-room and profusely thanked  _ her _ _ boys _ for their effort.)

Overall a great day, Rufus reflected while laying in his bed. Grounding and refreshing, though he had thought about Robert at any given moment. Tomorrow, they would be meeting as friends, even if some of their e-mails were more private than anything Rufus had shared with his previous girlfriends. Maybe that's why it hadn't worked out; his brain supplied unhelpfully.

Everything had been so exciting and unforeseen, and Rufus was amazed at the precious bond they were creating. Sometimes he wondered how this story out of a fairy tale could be real in his dull, rational world. In the span of the last six months, Robert had become his favourite person, when Rufus didn't know he could cherish someone like  _ that _ . It was as if they had known each other since childhood. As if they had shared the best and worst moments of their lives. As if they were one being with two bodies. Sometimes, they would wake up at the same time on opposite sides of the world and in different time zones and trade confidences. Sometimes, they would feel down at the same time and battle their own melancholy to cheer up the other. Sometimes, they would call each other in front of colleagues and pretend that it was standard for a grown-up to spend so much time on the phone with a  _ friend _ .

Rufus fell asleep that night with a hopeful smile.

[…]

They had agreed to meet in a coffee shop after Robert's conference. It was mid-afternoon and warm enough to wear t-shirts, though Rufus was so used to wear shirts that he seldom wore anything else, even in the summer. Robert, on the contrary, had changed after the formal conference and arrived with a dark t-shirt with the words "Classical nerd" written in fancy white lettering, not unlike a piano keyboard, and a beautiful smile. Rufus waved at him, and suddenly they were face to face, in front of a busy Pret smelling of freshly baked pastries. Unsure on what to do, Rufus settled for a friendly handshake, but then Robert engulfed him into a brief but tight hug that had Rufus' head spinning. I'm doomed, Robert thought while entering the coffee shop.

They ordered drinks (a fancy caramel iced coffee for Robert, a simple soy latte for Rufus) and sat down in a corner, in front of each other. There, they spend the next three hours, laughing and chatting and enjoying the time together. Rufus couldn't help but notice how Robert's eyes would sparkle when he beamed, how he always used his hands when he spoke animatedly about music, how he tended to touch Rufus' wrist or knee while telling a personal story, how he was bright and smart and also incredibly humble. Slowly, the sun began to go down, and Robert remembered that he was supposed to join one of his associate for dinner. They quickly made plans to meet the next day again, as today's meeting had been a blast, and they were both leaving the country the day after the next. 

That night, Rufus had the nightmare again, the one with the gunshot, the one he was trying very hard not to think about most of the time. He felt like he was dying, but the worst wasn't the physical pain, although it was so sharp he couldn't breathe, it was the  _ feeling _ . Like he had lost an essential thing in his life. He didn't want to come back to sleep afterwards, for fear of having it again. Instead, he wandered around the house in his pyjamas, unintentionally waking his mother up around five in the morning. He thought he had been silent enough, but she had always been a light sleeper.

Matilda saw her son's tormented expression and didn't chastise him, though she could have, as tired as she looked. He was a grown-up; after all, he didn't need to bother his mother because he'd just had a bad dream. But she took him by the elbow all the same, and dragged him to the kitchen, where she made them both a cup of herbal tea and waited for it to steep before she sat beside him and asked what was going on. She didn't mean only the nightmare; he was aware. She implied his behaviour in the last few months. He knew he had to tell the truth; he couldn't lie to her, and maybe telling the story would help him come to terms with his life as it had become.

"It began when I visited you last time. We went to a concert together, remember?" Matilda nodded, and Rufus kept going. "I was a bit sceptical at first because I didn't think classical music could please me. But God was I wrong." She tutted for the blasphemy but didn't interrupt him otherwise. "I guess I fell in love with the music. And the musician. Robert." He confessed, and that felt both good and terrifying to say it out loud. "I couldn't tear my eyes off him. It was like he embodied his music."

"I can understand how you felt," his mother offered.

"I've listened to everything he has posted online, and I've also sent him a message on YouTube. Then, on New Year's day, I've flown to New Orleans to see another concert, and I've met him afterwards. We've been regularly writing e-mails to each-other for the past seven months. And today, well, yesterday, we met in the city. Like friends."

"How did it go?"

"Fine. More than fine. He's so interesting and passionate. I feared we couldn't talk smoothly in person, but the truth is, it's like I've known him my whole life."

"That's how special bonds are," she hummed, not at all phased by his story. "I'm glad you found someone to talk to. What about your nightmare?"

He frowned and palmed his forehead a bit forcefully.

"I don't know," he sighed. "It had been a while since I've had it, but the first time was months ago. I can't remember what's happening, but there's a gunshot, I feel like I'm dying, and not because I've been shot, but because I've lost everything that matters. Then I wake up."

She seemed distressed by the explanation. 

"That doesn't seem good. Tell me next time, please? I'll do a bit of research on my own. If it keeps coming back, it won't probably go by magic."

He smiled tiredly and promised he would.

"By the way. Did you just come back here to meet him?" She accused jokingly, her hands on her hips.

"Of course not, Mom!" He answered, a bit too quickly.

She threw him a dark glance and stood up.

"Time for breakfast. Be a dear and go buy some bread."

He got up and went upstairs to dress. He felt better than a mere hour before. He hadn't planned to talk about Robert to his mother, but she had reacted as he needed her to: with no fuss over his potential falling over heels for another man. He smiled while choosing his favourite shirt to wear. It was six in the morning, and today he was meeting Robert again.

[…]

Robert wanted to be outside that day, so they met in Hyde Park. Rufus couldn't believe Robert had never been there, for all the times he had stayed in London for a concert. The weather was even better than the previous day, and Robert was now wearing a dark blue "Bach in a Minuet" t-shirt. Rufus snorted when he got the pun and asked Robert how many of those silly t-shirts he had.

"I can't wear them at work, can I?" Robert defended himself. "But rest assured that I've got plenty of them. I swear you won't see the same one twice."

Rufus liked that assessment, but primarily because it meant that they were going to meet again.

They walked around the lake, counting the squirrels and trying to identify the numerous birds that flew above their heads. They didn't talk much, as they had done just that the day before. They were glad to be in each other's company and enjoy a beautiful day of rest in London. They stopped for a coffee near Lady Diana memorial fountain and sat on the grass. Well, Rufus sat, and Robert untied his shoes, plunged his feet into the freshwater and stretched out with his hands supporting his neck. How a man so serious on stage could be so carefree amazed Rufus significantly - and made him feel a bit weak at the knees if he had to be perfectly honest with himself. They shared smiles and bits of stories while resting among the children chasing each other, the adults reading and sunbathing, the teenagers giggling in groups and pretending not to drink alcohol in recycled bottles of water. The moment felt so familiar that Rufus almost thought that this was his actual life. But soon, it would only be a memory. He would go back to sad old Texas to make the wealthiest men wealthier, and Robert would go back to wherever he was supposed to be next, probably on the other side of the planet, in a concert hall full of adoring people. From then on, Rufus lost a bit of his natural smile and the more the minutes passed, and the more he felt a weight on his shoulders; the pressure of want, the burden of regret. Robert noticed because he noticed everything about Rufus.

"You seem a bit absent. Are you okay?" Robert asked as the two of them started walking under the trees, deepest into the park, the city noises blessedly muted.

"I'm fine," Rufus said, quickly. "A bit tired, don't worry."

"We can sit a bit longer if you want. I don't mind."

"No, no. I'm fine, really."

Robert frowned.

"Something happened, and you're not telling me."

Rufus couldn't help but smile genuinely.

"You do care for my wellbeing." He realised.

"Of course I do, darling. I care about you."

Rufus' heart melted in his ribcage. After such honesty, he owned Robert the truth about his discomfort.

"This feels too real. Us, here, today. But I can't help but think about tomorrow."

He didn't need to say more; they knew their time together was short. He expected Robert to cheer him up or to dismiss the feeling. However, Robert's shoulders seemed to sag, and he sighed.

"Two days are better than nothing, but I do wish it would last longer. London with you is the best way to spend any vacation."

Even more so than his insouciance, Robert's honesty also amazed Rufus. Rufus was sincere, but he tended to keep his thoughts for himself. Robert was loud and bright, and he made Rufus' life so worth it.

"We should establish our base camp here," Robert said enthusiastically. "So we know we can meet each other here."

That was a dream more than a doable reality, but Rufus liked the idea.

"That could be nice." He agreed with a soft smile. "Or you can visit me in Texas. Sure, it's hotter and colder than London at times, the accent is so thick that sometimes it feels like another language, but most of the time it's not so bad."

"I might take you up on your offer," Robert answered, and it felt like a promise. "I've never been there."

"I can't promise they'll like the music, though," Rufus joked, and Robert feigned being offended.

"That's a dare if I ever see one. Beware, Texans."

Rufus laughed out loud - the sound of his joy coursing through his entire body. How long has it been since he'd laughed like that, for real? Robert seemed to achieve the same conclusion for he threw him a meaningful glance.

By the time they made it to their departure point, it was almost seven. Robert watched the time on his phone and cursed under his breath. Rufus expected him to leave and strengthened himself to say good-bye. But under his rapt eyes, Robert made a silence gesture and called someone on his phone. The person on the other line answered, and Rufus listened as Robert told them that he had gotten sunburnt in the afternoon and that he had a headache that was killing him, so he was back at home to sleep it off. Unfortunately, they wouldn't be able to meet tonight. He was so sorry. And he felt like an idiot for getting sunburnt in London; he was not very used to being outside after all. 

He hung up shortly after that and turned toward Rufus, who didn't know what to think of the situation.

"Now that I'm no longer engaged with anyone tonight, do you want to have dinner with me?"

Rufus sucked in a breath. 

"You cancelled your plans for me?" He managed to say.

"They'll get over it though my agent may leave me a few texts before tomorrow. She's not going to believe I got sunburnt. She knows me better." He snorted. "But I don't care. As long as I'm not wasting my time when I could be with you."

Here was that honesty again. 

"Where do you want to eat?" Rufus asked, instead of telling Robert exactly how he made him feel.

"Somewhere simple? A favourite of yours, maybe? I'm not in the city that often to know good places."

"Me neither, but there's a good pub in my mother's neighbourhood. Would that be okay?"

"Perfect. I can take a cab later tonight to go back."

They rode the Tube toward their destination. Rufus hoped they didn't meet his mother for she would not let them eat dinner outside of her kitchen, and he figured their relationship wasn't there yet, although Matilda might believe so.

The pub was small and blissfully calm. They sat in a booth near the bar. It was too early in the evening for people to be inside yet. They ordered drinks, greasy food, and more drinks as the evening went on. They chatted more, exchanging shameful memories (Robert's first breakup and hangover at age sixteen; Rufus' failed high-school graduation party), talking about their past lovers (Rufus had told the girl he was dating that he didn't know how to kiss her; Robert had come home after a month to find his lover in bed with someone else) and their families (Rufus' mother had raised him and his brother on her own; Robert hadn't spoken to his parents for years because they were toxic and he was still distressed when thinking about them.) They switched from alcohol to water after that for they could already feel their heads spinning, but they didn't want the night to end, not yet. They talked about Robert's next masterpiece ("Technically it's not a masterpiece yet, but I sense it has the potential to outgrow everything I've ever done"). Then Rufus ordered a coffee for himself and an Eton Mess for Robert. (Rufus had asked what Robert's favorite food was. "Sugar", he'd answered.)

Slowly, the night fell as they remained in their bubble inside the pub. Somewhere around eleven, Rufus forced himself to ask, for he refused to be selfish and keep Robert away from his rest.

"Shouldn't you be going back?" 

"Are you making me leave?"

"Never." The truth came out of Robert's mouth.

"Good. Hide me in your childhood bedroom; no one will never know I'm here." Robert deadpanned. 

Rufus laughed half-heartedly.

"You'll miss the stage eventually."

"Sometimes, I wish I wouldn't." He sighed.

They raised and paid the bill at the bar, then left the pub. The night was still warm, but Robert pressed himself against Rufus' shoulder, fished for his phone and frowned.

"I think it died? I must have forgotten to charge it today."

"Do you want me to call you a cab?"

Robert seemed to think about it.

"Please don't."

And then, in Rufus' childhood neighbourhood, in front of the pub, Robert kissed him. He put his left hand on Rufus' hip, the other on his shoulder, and he pressed their lips together, in the night's warm embrace. Rufus' heart started beating like crazy, and he grabbed the hem of Robert's t-shirt, wishing this moment lasted forever. In truth, it did. It felt like their souls bonded through that first kiss - was it the first? Kissing Robert felt like kissing should feel. Like the single most important thing in the world. Like they were finding each other after being separated for centuries. Rufus' whole body was alive and echoing everything his life had lacked until then; love, desire, a deep understanding of another being's needs. A surge to be conscious and share Robert's energy and brightness.

They kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed until their lungs couldn't take it anymore. Lightheaded, they separated and walked to a nearby bench, hidden from sight by a growing tree. 

They sat with their thighs pressed together, their hands tightly locked. 

"I should have kissed you the first time," Robert confessed, which earned him a disbelieving laugh.

"Seriously? In that concert hall, in front of your fans?"

"You're not even trying to pretend you didn't already want to."

Rufus blushed at that.

"What can I say? You've blown my mind away that night in London. My only relief was to get to know you more and more, and by then, I knew I was doomed. You are far better than the idea I had of you, which was already something."

"What a confession," Robert whistled. "I'm quite the lucky man tonight."

He stroke Rufus' cheek with his fingers and kissed the corner of his lips.

"Do you still want to call me a cab?" His tone was playful, but Rufus could sense the insecurity behind.

"Hell, no. Unless you want to go home?"

"Hell, no," Robert mimicked, and they shared a fond smile.

[…]

Morning found them lying almost naked next to each other in Rufus' narrow bed. They had sneaked upstairs around midnight, trying to avoid any noise as they passed before Matilda's bedroom. Still, Rufus half-expected her to know something was going on, and even if she wasn't, he wasn't too worried about her reaction, not when she had been so acceptant the other day.

Rufus had been awake for an hour or so when Robert finally opened his eyes and stretched gently, not even a bit phased about his surroundings. He turned toward Rufus and kissed his bare shoulder, making him shiver. Robert had his hair all mussed up and a satisfied expression that made him look even more desirable. 

"Slept well?" Rufus forced himself to ask instead of gazing at the vast expanse of bare skin before his hungry eyes.

"Mm," Robert answered in place of an answer. "You?"

"Amazingly," Rufus said honestly.

"Do we have to get up?"

"I guess we do? My mom should have made breakfast by now."

"Breakfast sounds great. But are we there yet? Meeting the mother?"

"Only if you're ready."

Robert took Rufus' hand in his.

"With you, always."

They spent a few more minutes exchanging kisses while looking for their clothes scattered across the room, the result of their hurry to get undressed last night. They went to the bathroom separately before going to the kitchen.

Matilda was flipping pancakes on the stove. 

"Smells like heaven," Robert said upon entering the room.

She turned and welcomed them with a smile.

"Good morning, boys."

"Good morning Mrs Sixmith."

"Very nice to meet you in person, Robert. Just Matilda is fine. Sit down now; breakfast's ready."

She served them a healthy stack of steaming pancakes, and they dug in without prompting. It felt like a dream to Rufus, like a story out of a fairy tale. Robert, in his kitchen, joking with his mother, sharing secret smiles with him. Robert, his brightness, his talent, his love, in his life. Robert asleep in his bed last night. 

Matilda left them soon after that to go to work. She managed to gift Robert a jar of homemade lemon curd and make him promise to come to visit them newt time he was in town, even if Rufus wasn't here. Robert accepted the gift, vowed he would, and looked positively happy - he later said to Rufus that he understood now how Rufus could be so lovely; he had been raised by the nicest mom ever. Rufus felt glad that the two of them had liked each other. 

They wandered into the house for an hour before Robert saw the time and made a face. He hadn't plugged his phone when they had come back last night, and he knew his agent would be beyond pissed at him going AWOL.

Rufus made a hopeful smile.

"Don't worry. We'll manage, somehow."

"You'd better not wait six months again," Robert grumbled, and Rufus kissed his temple softly.

"Promise. We'll find the time."

They said their goodbyes while waiting for the cab at the curb in front of the house. Their last kiss turned from passionate to desperate and then Robert was gone, and Rufus was standing alone on the street.

[…]

Once again, Rufus retrieved his life, full-time job, crappy cabin, the low temperatures of early August in Texas, and no Robert. He buried himself under work because he didn't know how to cope with his feelings any other way. From what Robert was telling him through texts, he wasn't fine either; and his relationship with his agent was still not mended. She may have forgiven the night off, but it had been two weeks, and Robert was not committed, late for his meetings, lost in his thoughts, and on one occasion, too sick to get up. Knowing they were both poorly didn't help Rufus feel better, far from it. He had never experienced such a hard separation from another human being. He hadn't missed his family like that when he had moved to the States, and he had never cherished any of his romantic partners as he loved Robert. 

The admission was easy enough now. You couldn't miss someone like that if you didn't at least love them. And there was a particularly weird comfort in knowing Rufus loved Robert and Robert loved him back. Even on different continents, their bond was real.

That was after an especially rough day (getting yelled at by a shareholder  _ and  _ his boss was not good for the nerves) and without news from Robert for two days (dead phone, no service, or-?) that Rufus had the nightmare again. That time, he felt like drowning and then heard the gunshot. He woke up gasping for air, his heart hammering, his sheets drenched in cold sweat. He took a few minutes to calm down and reflect on the novelty. Then he grabbed his phone and wrote a text for Robert.

"Sleeping's hard without you. I hope you're okay."

He pressed send and wrote another, this time for his mother, as he had promised last time he would keep her updated.

"Hi, mom, sorry to disrupt your day. I've just had the same nightmare again. But somehow worse? Still don't remember much, except drowning. (Don't freak out and have a nice day)"

He got an answer from Matilda a few minutes later. She was already up and about as it was almost midday in London.

"Good morning, son. Check out this article I've been reading lately (link below) I think you can find some answers or at least clues to find out more about your problem. Text me if it keeps coming back. Now think about Robert and sleep some more. "

She indeed was one of a kind. Sometimes Rufus thought that she had accepted Robert better than he had. He clicked on the link and carefully read the article about recurrent nightmares. It said that they could be caused by lousy life hygiene (eating too late, for example, which he did all the time) or a mental shock that expressed itself through the bad dreams at night. Rufus couldn't fathom how he could have any trauma (except for the death of his dad, but it had been decades, and the nightmares had only begun recently. Besides, why the gunshot then?) so it was either to think he had bad sleep hygiene, for that was undoubtedly true.

He queued up a list of additional articles to read about that and slowly drifted back to sleep.

[…]

True to their promise, they didn't wait six months before seeing each other again. Enjoying a bit of respite in October after a medical leave, Robert flew to Texas and surprised Rufus on his doorstep on a dull Saturday night.

Robert eyed the old but neat flat, the flannel plaid on the worn couch, the omnipotent work computer, and tried to remember for later everything that was Rufus' life here. 

They found themselves embraced on the same couch, shortly after Robert's arrival. 

"I can't believe you're here." Rufus sighed. 

"I've been harassing my agent to have some days off, and, well, after the fever and all, she agreed that it would be best if I rested some more."

In truth, Robert's sickness had been incredibly worrying, as he had been taken up by a raging fever for most of a week, and wasn't conscious enough to text Rufus to keep him updated.

"You're here," Rufus repeated. "You've seen my home, and now, here. I've got nothing to hide anymore."

"I like that idea," Robert said before leaving a trail of kisses on his neck. 

They made love on the couch that night.

[…]

"We should get matching tattoos," Robert said out of nowhere when Rufus drove him to the airport three days later. They had barely left the flat, except to shop for groceries, and it hurts to know that the leave had come to an end.

"Pardon?" Rufus intelligently asked.

"Matching tattoos," Robert repeated patiently. "Do you know what those are?"

"Of course I do. What I mean is why? Why suddenly?"

Robert sighed and got closer to curl his arm around Rufus' waist.

"So we could feel like we're always together?"

And Lord did that ring right in Rufus' skin. He had never considered getting a tattoo before (Robert had frequently told him already how he was so old-school), but Robert's explanation was as good as another.

"And when would we manage to do that?"

Robert frowned.

"Maybe we'll have to get it done on our own? Make it the same day, but in different countries."

Somehow, the idea was appealing. 

"You and your crazy ideas," Rufus said instead, to annoy Robert, who tried to tickle him to no avail.

"We'll talk about it some more on the phone, but I wanted to explain it out loud."

"Fine. Go now, or you'll miss your plane."

"That would be too bad," Robert said in a falsly horrified tone.

"Luisa would have your skin for sure." 

They exchanged one last deep kiss before they had to let go of each other. Robert waved at him and then he was gone in the sea of people in the airport's main hall. 

[…]

I had to face more hardship in my life, Rufus reminded himself as he entered the tattoo parlour the day of his appointment. He was so nervous that he had barely gotten any sleep last night – hopefully, Robert had his afternoon off so at least they'd spent the time together until Rufus had to get up and proceed with his day. Robert was currently touring in Germany and spending three days in Berlin. He had lost Rufus in lengthy depictions about the city and its atmosphere, which Robert seemed to enjoy very much. Rufus was glad to witness Robert having a good time even if they were missing each other dearly.

And today was the day they had chosen to get tattooed together. It was mid-morning in Texas and nearing the evening in Europe, and they had managed to find an appointment at the same virtual time. Perchance, Rufus had his morning off and had driven into town, and to the nearest decent tattoo parlour he had found on the Internet. Robert had been sending him texts of reassurance for the best part of an hour as if he had done that all his life. Rufus consequently couldn't tell how Robert was feeling. Maybe he was anxious too? But as it was his idea, he was trying to keep Rufus' spirits high? That seemed like something he would do; forgetting his own feelings to take care of Rufus'. 

The entry was narrow, the only furniture the desk and a few chairs for the customers to wait. No one was here beside him, as it was early still. Rufus took a deep breath and went to talk to the clerk behind the desk. She had jet-black hair cut into a bob and pale skin for someone living in the middle of Texas. Her dark sweater let her shoulders and her intricate tattoos on sight.

"Can I help you?" She asked politely.

"I, I have an appointment today. In ten minutes." He said after looking at his watch. She looked a bit more friendly then.

"Oh, Rufus, is that it? Welcome to Cloud Atlas. Please have a seat; I'll check if my partner's done. Then we can have the place for ourselves."

He did as he was told and texted Robert that the place seemed okay, as far as he could tell presently. The woman came back and sat in front of him, a stack of paper and a pencil perched on her knees.

"You told me on the phone that you wanted a comet, right? Do you have any design you can show me so I can have an idea?"

"Actually, yes."

Rufus looked into Robert's discussion and retrieved the picture he had sent him a few days ago.

"Oh, nice," the girl said. "Is that someone's design or a personal one?"

Rufus understood the question because Robert had talked last night about copyright in the tattoo industry. Rufus had wondered how he could even be aware of subjects that far from his line of work, but had been interested in learning more all the same. Robert was opening him a whole new world of information.

"My partner's," Rufus confessed. "We don't live in the same country, so he thought about getting the same tattoo. At the same time," he said somewhat sheepishly.

The woman's smile softened, and she nodded.

"That's a great idea. Comets do travel through time and space."

Rufus nodded in turn, grateful she had understood their project. 

"Where is he getting his?" She wondered while drawing Robert's comet on her pad.

"In Berlin."

She hummed and resumed to her sketch. Less than a minute later, two persons left the back room behind the desk. One of them had visible tattoos on his hands and neck and harboured the same kind of smile that the woman Rufus was sitting with. The other was most likely a customer.

"The room is free; we can go." The woman stood up and made a sign for Rufus to follow her in the back. "The man you just saw is Haejoo, my life-and-work-partner. And I'm Sonmi. We own this shop, both tattooers from South Korea."

"If my boyfriend hadn't suggested it, I wouldn't have thought about ever coming there," Rufus confessed. "But I'm glad he did."

That was the truth. He was still feeling a bit angsty, but a sense of accomplishment was slowly growing, alongside with pride, probably coming from his less levelled teenager self.

The room was more significant than the entry hall, though not by much, and also sparely furnished. Rufus sat on a cushioned bench and watched as Sonmi printed the design on carbon paper after showing it to him. He asked for permission to take a picture, then sent it to Robert, who answered thirty seconds later with an identical view from his side. Sonmi watched the exchange with attention and a smile at the corner of her lips.

"Where do you want to have it?" She asked.

"I was thinking... perhaps on my collarbone? So I can- have it close."

"Seems good. Can you put your shirt aside?"

He undressed methodically and folded his clothe neatly beside him. Sonmi eyed his skin and straightened up.

"This is how it will go. I'll put the carbon on your skin to have the placement and outline. You tell me if you like it. Then I'll ink it. If you're too uncomfortable, at any time, you tell me, alright?"

"Understood," he said and let her proceed with the placement and the installation of her workplace. Things were going faster for Robert, as he has stopped texting after a final "This is it!" that had Rufus' heart doing a heap in his chest. Yes, they were genuinely doing this, an act of everlasting love, a bond so they could never be apart, no matter where they were on the planet.

The tattooing part didn't take long and for that Rufus was grateful, for, despite Sonmi's gentleness, he wouldn't call it agreeable. They chatted a bit more as she was cleaning everything up and he was putting his shirt back on with slow movements. She explained how she and Haejoo had become tired of working in their homeland and had travelled through the United States for a few years before settling there. They had been there for almost five years, and even though she sometimes missed being on the road, she also took great pleasure of having a place of her own, a safe place like Cloud Atlas. More than a tattoo parlour, it was also an art gallery, and Sonmi did a few spiritual activities on the side, for the believers. People were sometimes travelling through several states to meet them, and Rufus could understand why, as he now felt completely at ease despite feeling a sense of not belonging when he'd first set foot in the shop.

Sonmi gave him a few advice on how to take care of his fresh ink and thanked him for trusting her with his essential project. She added that she hoped Robert was happy with his, and together they went back to the front of the shop, where Haejoo was chatting with a purple-haired customer. Rufus paid Sonmi and thanked her again before leaving the place.

He couldn't have chosen a better place to get his comet.

[…]

He and Robert met again two months later, on New Year's Day. Robert had planned the same tour as he had the previous year, although this time, he invited Rufus into his hotel room in downtown New Orleans after the show. Rufus finally met his agent for real as she made Robert promise he would not be late at the meeting spot the next morning. Luisa was a beautiful, no-nonsense black woman, smartly dressed and her phone always ready to make a call. Despite everything Robert had told him about her and how she was none too gentle sometimes, Rufus figured it was good that Robert had her, for he was often akin to daydream, and she could maintain the things on track meanwhile. From what he could tell, Luisa didn't seem to dislike him, although she could have, considering he was the reason Robert had been less reliable for the past year. Robert told him later that she was glad, for having Rufus in his life made Robert happier, and that was good news on the agent's schedule. 

They thoroughly enjoyed spending the first night of the year together, discovering each other's healed tattoo for real and kissing until they couldn't breathe (Robert had gotten his on the small of his back, and Rufus kissed than sensitive skin with reverence). Offering their naked bodies and their twin comets to the moon. Being together after so long was like fireworks, even with the knowledge of how short it was going to be. The idea of the upcoming separation was always looming in the background, but they were doing their best to simply ignore it and make the most of it while they were in the same place at the same time. 

Around three in the morning, Rufus woke up with a start and a whimper. He had fallen asleep in Robert's tender embrace, while the musician was furiously scribbling notes on a virtual partition on his phone. The Inspiration had come, and he couldn't wait, couldn't dare to lose It. Rufus had been quite content to let himself drift off to sleep near his warm body, lulled by the notes Robert would sing out loud to test them. But now, Rufus was panicking, feeling the sound of the gunshot echoing through his bones, the acrid taste of powder invading his mouth. Robert put his phone away and looked at him, concern written across his handsome features.

"What's going on?" he asked softly.

Rufus buried his face against Robert bare shoulder and stayed like that, breathing evenly, taking reassurance in the familiar scent and warmth, and the knowledge that they were both alive and well in the bed. 

"Some nightmare I've been having," he said, his voice so raspy that he coughed. 

Robert frowned, more worried than a minute before.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Rufus firstly shook his head against Robert, but then decided that he couldn't leave him in the dark. In their relationship, he had quickly noticed that they couldn't allow themselves to hide things from each other. Being truthful helped feeling like they were living somewhat together, and it made the constant longing for more, the worry and the building trust easier to bear.

"It keeps coming back, though it's been a while." He said slowly, processing his thoughts and memories in the meantime. "There's a gunshot. I feel like dying. But it's not me who's shot. I'm just witnessing the pain. Sometimes, I drown. It's so hard, and I don't understand why it won't go away."

Beside him, he felt Robert shudder. 

"I've got one too. The Big Bad Dream, as Luisa called it, just because I fell asleep during the day once and got unlucky enough to woke up into a panic attack."

"What's in yours?" Rufus asked, both worried and curious.

"There's screaming. And I can't breathe."

Rufus moved on the mattress and coiled his arms around Robert's body in a possessive gesture. 

"I didn't know."

Robert shrugged.

"The occasion to tell you never arose. And it's been a while too."

"Tell me next time?"

"Of course? You too."

"Promise."

A tiny part of Rufus felt better at knowing Robert understood his anguish and shared something more with him. Most of him worried that it was more than lousy sleep hygiene if they were both touched by a similar phenomenon.

Robert ran his free hand into Rufus' hair in a soothing gesture and peppered kisses on the skin he could reach while being embraced. Rufus shivered under his touch, and they felt once more how they belonged together.

[…]

They woke up late after falling asleep around four, showered together despite the narrowness of the stall to save time, and chased each other through the room when Robert stole Rufus' shirt and decided to keep it. Hair still wet, they managed to retrieve their things across the room and packed their bags in a hurry, Robert's phone pinging with every new message from a not so patient Luisa. 

They ran into the staircase, holding hands and not caring about everyone else in the world but them. 

They halted at the bus stop, and Robert grabbed Robert's coat lapels to bring them closer and kiss the life out of him. Their breaths mingled, their bodies came alive, and all too soon, it was over, and Rufus was looking at Robert's back as he was running toward Luisa and the cab without a doubt already waiting for him.

"Take care, my love. Looking forward to next time," Rufus sent him after he had disappeared out of sight. Only then did he look at the bus timetable to know when he would get to the airport to come to his empty home in Texas.

[…]

The first three months of the year passed in a blur as they were both very occupied by their own work. Rufus had been named team leader in a new project of high interest, and Robert was deep into the conception of songs he believed were the works of his life. They still exchanged messages every day but didn't get to talk on the phone that often. Rufus missed Robert, but he was also an adult who understood the importance of work and was used to bury his feelings under his duty. He was planning on visiting his family in London at the end of the month, having come to a halt in the big project that allowed him and his team to take some time off to rest and ponder about what was next. He had asked Robert if he would be there, but the musician had been unable to answer the question. His schedule had been hectic due to the composing, and he had promised to talk about it with Luisa and see what he could do to make it. They were out of luck this time, as Robert flew to Norway while Rufus came to England. London wasn't the same on his own, Rufus thought, even if he was glad to meet his mother and brother and get to update them on his life. 

Early June saw Robert come to the States, but by then Rufus had agreed to spend a month in a facility in Mexico with his team. They had better technologies installations than they had in Texas, and they could thus prove their results in real-life simulations. It felt good to see the project being so close to its achievement, even when knowing Robert and he had missed each other again. 

They called each other through Facetime two weeks later. Rufus stared at his boyfriend's pale and emaciated face, too bewildered to say anything at first. Robert rubbed self-consciously as his neck and made a nervous gesture with his shoulders. Rufus knew he didn't look so good himself after spending months locked up in a lab under artificial lights, but Robert, who was supposed to go outside at least a bit, looked far worse as if he hadn't sleep in days, hell, weeks, which was probably right, coming to think of it. 

"You look tired," Robert said first, and Rufus managed not to snort.

"I've been taking some meds to enhance my concentration," Rufus confessed. "I couldn't keep up with the young ones in my team." He hoped to make Robert laugh, but he only stared at him through the phone lens. "You don't look too good too," Rufus said, trying to sound more worried than disapproving.

"Yeah, I've had that nightmare a lot," Robert said gloomily.

"How often?"

"Three times last week. I thought not sleeping would prevent them from coming back, but guess what, I can fall asleep when I'm standing."

It hurt to hear Robert being this sarcastic about his health and Rufus' heart clenched.

"You don't have the time to sleep, do you?" he asked neutrally.

Robert sighed.

"This song is eating me alive, Rufus. I need to bring it to the world before it's lost in the limbos of the unborn songs. It's my biggest achievement, the thing I know will change my career, will truly change my vision about classical."

There was the brightness, the energy in his eyes. Rufus felt relieved. Robert was right; it was hard now, but it wouldn't keep going like this for much longer. It had been six months already, and surely he was nearing the end.

"I can't wait to hear it," Rufus said, and Robert's tired features morphed into a warm smile. 

"Me as well," Robert added. "Me as well..."

Rufus heard Luisa's voice behind Robert before he saw half her body coming into the screen.

"Hello, Rufus," she said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've got a matter on my hands, and I need Robert's assistance."

Rufus didn't let his face show his deception and shook his head.

"Go on, do your best," he said to the pair. Luisa smiled and moved away from sight. "I love you," Rufus added for Robert, and Robert repeated the three words that meant the world.

Then Rufus hung up and considered maybe getting some sleep tonight.

[…]

Three weeks later, Rufus learnt that his mission had been a success and that he was being promoted to a higher rank in his field of work. He took a further interest when he heard that there was another facility in Russia willing to employ him. Before meeting Robert, Rufus wouldn't have found that interesting, for he could leave everywhere in the world. He had lived in Texas for the past ten years, and his biggest trip had been to New Orleans, which proved he wasn't much of a traveller. He hadn't decorated his house, hadn't taken any road trip, hadn't made friends outside of work. Russia would be the same, except it was closer from London, where Robert lived when he wasn't touring. It wouldn't be ideal still, but it would be better than what they had now. If they could meet more than twice a year, Rufus would be eternally glad.

Robert was also elated to hear the news, though still dead-tired. In two weeks, Rufus resigned for his old job, bought a plane ticket and emptied his house. He would have liked to have a few days to rest before moving to Russia, but it seemed he was impatiently waited for by his new colleagues, so he moved there without delay. The company accommodation was hopefully near a large city, with phone service and the Internet, which was something Rufus couldn't have gone without. He took photos to send his mother and Robert and spend his first evening with his new colleagues, a bunch of international workers recruited like him. They were the best in their fields, and Rufus was looking forward to passionate talks about the new projects. Everything was looking good for him, and he was glad he had taken the leap and moved over to Russia.

Over the next weeks, Rufus started to discover things that didn't live up to the idea he had of the place. His colleagues were great, as was the mission, but the Russian operatives who worked with them were sullen at best, and the facility seemed to be crumbling on itself as if it were too old to stand anymore. Rufus couldn't understand how they had to work in such dangerous conditions when their paychecks were higher than ever. He couldn't help but think that they were rewarded for their foolishness to work here, as a form of life insurance. He told about it to Robert one night, and he saw the worry in his eyes. Robert promised he would come and see for himself as soon as he could, also because it had been far too long (almost seven  _ months _ !) since they had seen each other in the flesh.

[…]

When Rufus' Russian boss asked him and his colleagues if they wanted to visit one of their drilling deck near Siberia, more than half of them agreed, Rufus one of them. Although it was an essential part of his work to find potential places for oil, he had never been to a deck before, and he was looking forward to it, as were his colleagues. The trip would take four days, they were told, so they packed accordingly. Knowing there wouldn't be much phone service on the deck, Rufus informed Robert that they would have trouble talking with each other for a few days. Robert told him he didn't like much the idea of him going to see such a place - he respected Rufus' work in a scientific way, not in the way that his researches made the richest man wealthier with oil. Robert had also finished writing his masterpiece and was in the process to record it. 

He was ecstatic in a way Rufus had never seen him before, and they exchanged a few good-humoured jokes about their respective centres of interest before hanging up, their "I love you" echoing through each other's brain long afterwards.

[…]

Even before Luisa rushed to his room to tell him to turn on the TV screen, Robert had known something was oh so very wrong. He had barely slept, plagued by the usual nightmare more than once the same night, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being choked. They were in Paris, in a fancy hotel, waiting for a new contract to be signed. It was seven in the morning and a panicked Luisa clad in her pyjamas was making signs in front of his face, signs he didn't pay attention to because he had finally caught on what was going on on the screen. A weird square construction in the middle of the sea was going up in flames. It was strange, Robert thought with distance, that something could burn on the water. Next to him, Luisa made a horrified sound when part of the building exploded, and they saw tiny people in the background jumping into the water. The video, already blurry, came to a stop and the shocked faces of two presenters appeared. Robert heard without understanding, and somehow he knew he was in shock, but then Luisa turned toward him with barely concealed tears, and he understood. He began to choke uncontrollably, fell to his knees before Luisa had the time to catch him and fall into unconsciousness before his body had fully touched the floor.

[…]

They stayed five more days in Paris, as Robert couldn't stop hyperventilating every time Luisa mentioned going home. There was no home anymore, and if she could just leave him so he could be unconscious again and forget what his life had become. After another endless fight that left Robert with not an ounce of fire in his body, Luisa managed to haul him back to London where he could rest and maybe seek help. After being mute and unresponsive for three days, he had taken to read and watch everything he could find about the accident. Luisa didn't think it was too healthy, but she was at a loss, and Robert was not listening to her, though he hadn't chased her away as he had with everybody else. 

The drilling deck had been known for several months to have dysfunctions in his power system, but the company had thought it wasn't too serious to endanger the lives of dozens of employees. 

The first fire had started at two in the morning, while everyone but two guards had been soundly asleep. When they had smelled the fumes thirty minutes later, it had been already too late to do much else than panic. They had rung the fire alarm manually (it hadn't switched on) and one of them had tried to alert anyone in the vicinity to come for help with the radio. The videos on the news came from a drone sent by a nearby boat, which was regretfully too late to save anyone. 

Two guards, one chief, ten local employees, six foreign scientists on a visit. Plus Rufus Sixsmith.

It was unclear if they had died in the fires, choking with the fumes, in the explosion or of hypothermia in the water. The result was still the same: twenty persons had lost their lives in the explosion on the drilling deck in Siberia. 

And Robert's soulmate was one of them. 

The victims' family were already taking charges against the company, and Robert learnt through his researches that Matilda Sixsmith was one of them and also one of the fiercest. He didn't dare to visit her but then Luisa nudged him to do it, and he had no choice but to go. Maybe she was right, and he needed someone who loved Rufus dearly and whom he could share his pain with. Maybe he needed something, anything.

Meeting Matilda didn't bring him what he expected, but he left her home with a weird and deep sense of calm. He knew what he had to do.

He left Luisa instructions to release his masterpiece "in loving memory of Rufus Sixsmith". They had lost so much time because of it that it was the least he could do to be forgiven. He then booked a place to Louisiane and retrieved the hotel they had stayed at a lifetime ago. He paid for a week in advance and settled into the room. It was as if Rufus' spirit had stayed here and was welcoming him in his tender embrace.

It was terrifyingly easy to acquire a gun in the United States, and for once, Robert was glad it was. He came back to the hotel with his purchase, feeling more determined than he had been since the accident. He sent a message to Rufus' phone "I believe there is another world waiting for us, a better one. And I'll be waiting for you there." and shut the device off.

He settled on the bed and closed his eyes.

_ It all began with a gunshot. Or was it the end? _

**Author's Note:**

> Credits: No character belongs to me, except Matilda and Stephen.  
> Beckham's bookshop and Robert Greenberg's book do exist.  
> I found the "Back in a Minuet" pun on the Internet. (I'd so buy if it were a legit t-shirt)  
> I'm neither a musician nor a geophysicist, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Feel free to comment, even if it's only to point a mistake out (English's not my mother tongue).  
> Thank you so much for reading.


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